Let me start off by saying that I hate working out. I know that hate is a strong word, but in this situation, I’m using it correctly. Now, I don’t mean playing volleyball with my friends, or taking a quick swim in the ocean. I’m talking about putting on ugly black legging work out pants, a t-shirt, having to find not one, but two socks, searching for 10 minutes around the house for my sneakers, grabbing my headphones, realizing that one ear bud doesn’t work, getting to the gym and then “working out” by frolicking over to the elliptical… but telling myself that to make it worthwhile, I better run on the treadmill for at least 10 minutes.
That was a pretty long sentence… but yes, I think of every single one of those things as I sit at my house at 5:30pm contemplating whether or not I want to go work out.
Ever since I was a youngin’, my first memories consisted of taking ballet classes, playing on a soccer team, hitting balls endlessly on the tennis court in the glaring sun, and eventually, joining the swim team… which ends up being my sport of choice (actually, it was my parents.. sorry mom, but IT’S TRUE). For the next 12 years, I basically swam every day in a pool. And when I say every day, I actually mean it, seeing that many weekends consisted of two-day swim meets, while the rest of the week had sometimes even two practices a day.
I somewhat just went on a tangent, because this all has to do with my hatred for working out. So I just want to clarify, when I say work out… I mean going to the dreaded gym. And that I have many years of experience with physical activity – but now seem to have hit a brick wall.
Recently I realized I should probably start working out again because that’s what 25 year old women are supposed to do…or at least that’s what those 20 Things Girls in Their 20s Should Be Doing (see here) articles keep telling me. I kept seeing my friends on Facebook decked out in Lululemon gear, going nuts about this thing called “barre.” I was intrigued, since I actually had fun at dance class when I was younger (The class takes place in a dance like studio with a ballet bar). Therefore, since there were no spinning classes (my “work out” of choice) in my neighborhood, I might as well try this barre thing.
… fast forward 10 minutes into the class… my legs were shaking so hard I actually thought there must be a mistake, the floors HAVE to be vibrating. Ugh, the pain… the agony. I must have looked at that clock 60 times.. once a minute for a good hour. Bend your leg this way, now lift your right arm, now do a back flip and land on your opposite leg, while simultaneously squeezing your glutes and finish off with 50 push ups — but don’t forget you have to be on your tip-toes.
Sixty minutes later and I’m crawling out of the classroom. As I’m walking home, I reflect and ask myself “Do I want to do this again?” My immediate answer is: hells no. But she did play that good Ke$sha song at the end – so maybe I’ll give it another try.